


Party

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [61]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8424004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: After a mission goes well.





	

They’re at an after-mission party, sitting in the corner of the bar. Five drinks in and Kylo’s feeling like this is where he wants to be. No more, no less. The world streams slightly when he turns his head, the images tracing shockwave memories across his eyes, and the slosh of his inner ear like the slosh of booze in his glass. It’s a buzzed kind of drunk, and he pulls the feeling out and out, letting his whole self thrum. 

He’s leaning back against Poe’s chest, one arm draped over his lap, the fingers touching just below his knee. Poe’s breathing is steady and soothing, the only breaks being when he arches his head to take a swig of his drink. It’s nice, and Kylo doesn’t mind this kind of socialising. Groups of pilots come and go, giving them brief moments of bright conversation about _nothing_ and **everything**  before they stagger off to dance or jump on tables and dare one another higher. 

The breaks in attention let him recharge, and he feels sociable enough watching all the antics. He tilts his head back to see Poe similarly beaming, and doesn’t feel bad about sequestering him here. Poe’s always found it hard, being their boss and needing a small level of distance without looking like he’s aloof. Having Kylo as his excuse for being a little out of the way suits them both, and no one thinks they’re anti-social for it.

He rubs at a slight mark on Poe’s hand, licking his thumb and then scrubbing at it. It’s stained in from something, and no matter how hard he tries to clean it just _does not_ go. 

Fine. He glugs a little more down, and then there’s a shuffle behind him.

“Babe,” comes Poe’s voice, sultry like liquid fire.   


“Mmmngh?” he asks, intelligently.  


“You should know… I’m not gonna last much longer without sucking on your neck.”  


“MmngngngnGNGNGGNhhhf.”  


Poe snickers, and his nose rubs a line of warning over his skin, making Kylo’s _whole body do the thing it does_ and he’s much, much too drunk for this and the glass goes between his legs with his hands clasped over it to hide the sudden rush of blood.

“You smell so good, babe. Maker, I wanna pour shots over your throat and lick ‘em off…”  


Kylo does not respond to this, except by nodding.

Fingers just push at his hair, baring his neck, and the feel of breath is gloriously sinful.

“Wanna lick down your spine, pull those cheeks apart, and push my face between your legs. Wanna lick you and eat you out, until you beg me to fuck you.”  


“PPPFGNSNGGNHSGN.”  


“Push my finger in, hold your neck down, stop you from moving as I open you slowly like you’re my name-day gift. Fuck your tight ass until you’re–”  


“Hey,” Snap says, dropping into the couch across from them.  


Kylo wants Snap to **die**.

“That was some pretty good flying, you know,” the man continues, blithely ignoring the fact that Kylo is trying to get his boner under control.  


“Yeah… just slid those shots home, right?” Poe replies. “Boom…”  


Fucking… Kylo wants other things to slide home right now. He wants to drink but it would leave his dick poking to the ceiling for everyone to see. 

“You’re really something, you know that, Dameron?”  


“Hey, I couldn’t do it without you guys.”  


Kylo thinks he **should do it** without those guys. Like. _Now_.

Snap seems to understand, and swaggers away to where Nien is doing something he probably shouldn’t.

“Home,” he sputters. “ _Now_.”  


“Anything you say, baby.”  



End file.
